


Synonyms for Mourning

by Intergalactic_Octopus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Apparently I hate myself but okay lol, Enjoy this sad varric fic, F/M, Grief/Mourning, One-Sided Attraction, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Intergalactic_Octopus/pseuds/Intergalactic_Octopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavri'el Hawke, the apostrophe is important, did not return when the Inquisition nose dived into the Fade. In her passing, she left behind her closest and oldest friend, Varric. Grief consumes him as he tries to hold to important memories of her to sooth his pain. </p><p>Set after the Fade escape, Varric wrestles with his complicated feelings for the woman who's infectious laugh and captivating personality consumed his life from the moment they met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Synonyms for Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> Gavri'el Hawke is based after my own Hawke so some of her headcanons very specific to her. Check the end notes for a list of them since they are "spoilers???". Enjoy some sad fic of Varric and tell me how you like it.

Varric stared at the fire unable to turn his eyes away from the flames. This was despite the fact they were doing a damn good job at drying his eyes out past the point of irritation. And anyone that was around him for more than five minutes knew with extensive detail how much he hated even the mildest of discomforts. It was just that it hard to scrape up the energy to drag himself to his bed chamber and bury his face in goose down filled pillows and weep until he passed out from exhausted like he wanted. He’d lost a dear friend to the Fade.

Gavri'el Hawke. The apostrophe was important he’d been reminded. Hawke had managed to get her crafty paws on an early draft of the _Tale of the Champion_ and written in the margins every time he’d misspelled her name as Gavriel. There was also a doodle of a phallus but he was about 60% sure that was Isebela’s doing. She’d said in her notes at the end of his memoirs that it was about giving her name “Pazazz”. Bullshit really. They both knew it was for religious reasons but neither of them made a habit out of talking belief if they could. It was something they both considered private and they respected that part of each other.

Gavri'el was hopefully with the Maker. He didn’t want to imagine his friend fighting forever in the Fade, alone with only the company of the worst nightmare she could imagine. He hoped, prayed really, that she was daring the Maker to out drink her somewhere, far away from the Inquisition and Corypheus  and could meet up with her brother and parents at some point too.

The fact that he was wishing for only the best for Hawke and peace in her afterlife when he himself was miserable over her passing did not escape him. Hawke had become one of the biggest weaknesses in his life next to Bianca. The woman, not the crossbow. He’d lied to the Inquisition, both outright and by omission, allowed himself to be taken captive and did anything and everything he could to keep her safe. He put himself in harm’s way for her and he’d do it again. Hell, if some Tevinter bullshit time magic could send him back in time he’d go back, find himself in Kirkwall and tell himself to be at the docks when Hawke arrived. All for the pleasure of knowing her one extra year.

 The fact he didn’t have a plucky nickname for her didn’t escape him either. Hawke was just Hawke. No nickname could match who she was and how much he admired everything she was. The good and the bad. And boy, was Hawke a complicated woman. But damn if it didn’t make him love her even more. She just had that way about her that had people tripping over themselves to be at her side. Broody and Rivaini somehow managed to beat out him to her bed in some unholy trinity of dick jokes, sarcasm and pointy edges that she tried to explain once. He politely declined. Though he knew if he’d asked she’d have opened her heart to the idea of adding another romantic partner to her life. But his own entanglement with Bianca and his fear that it would sully their friendship kept them close but separate.

He drank from a bottle of wine that was too young and dry for his liking and selfishly wished he’d asked share a bed just once. If only on a “friends with benefits deal” or “one night curiosity sating” one. So he could least say he wouldn’t die with that regret on his shoulder. Introducing red lyrium to Thedas and inadvertently helping start a civil war sort of took up enough space on them already.

Casandra had walked by, paused for a moment as if considering saying something and then looked away before walking off to make herself busy elsewhere. He was starting to get absolutely sick everyone looking at him as they passed with a mix of empathy and pity. Sera had come by for a moment, briefly, to drop the idea that she could prank the entirety of the Wardens if he gave the word. Solas had peeked his head from around his study to spout some philosophical crap about the Fade he wasn’t in the mood to hear. Cole, may have stopped by. He wasn’t sure. He did find red ribbon tied to the end of one of his plumes though. It was like the red scarfs Fenris and Isabella wore when they started dating Hawke and it was, oddly comforting. Like an acknowledgement of the love he felt for her and that it was reciprocated. That one he didn’t mind too much.

The Inquisitor came by to check on him earlier and he was disgusted in himself at how mad he was with her initially. She’d chosen to keep the Wardens as allies to the Inquisition. It made sense. It was battle wise the right choice. They were fighting a semi-immortal abomination with god-like aspirations. They’d had already tangled with him before and apparently they couldn’t put him down for shit. They needed all the help they could get. But his first gut reaction was nothing but fury. He remembered hearing Cadash give them a second chance and his skin caught fire and his ears buzzed until no other sound could penetrate his mind. He wanted to punish every single Warden for Hawke’s death as if they were responsible for the fact his friend stayed behind to fight and saved their lives.

“After all the shit they pulled! I should have never sent for her!” Someone probably heard him yell in their tents on the way back to Skyhold. No one bothered to talk to or be around him during that trip back. He wasn’t, pleasant company. He was angrier with himself knowing that if Hawke had lived, and Alistar had died, he would have been perfectly okay with the Wardens on their side. It was selfishness, and pettiness plain and simple.

So he accepted her attempt to comfort him. Guilt oozed out of every pore in her body as she approached him. Cautiously. Like she half expected him to start swinging. He wasn’t the violent type and she knew it but losing a close friend can change a person. But they kissed and made up, metaphorically, and they both shared a sad smile at the somber occasion. Cadash did confess while she didn’t know Hawke well but she understood what the hero meant to him. He appreciated it.

 In their exchange, Cadash let him tell a funny story about Hawke. A truthful one. Not the ones like where he told the entirety of The Hanged Man, outrageous and outlandish lies. Not like the slightly stretched truths of his memoirs. An actual memory about the time she’d dragged some would-be assassins with her name on their lists to a game of Wicked Grace. It was funnier than any story he could make up and more intimate that he was used to being. But it gave him a chance to remember Hawke’s laugh. If he tried hard enough he could almost hear her. Throwing her head back as far as she could, cackling until tears were streaming down her eyes and she snorted, only making her laugh harder. It was infectious and the whole gang always joined in. Even Blondie and Broody and they were cats and dogs most time in each other’s company. Shit, he was going to miss that laugh most of all.

The letters to their shared friends, her lovers and her sister sat on the table in the gallery, neatly stack and addressed. He should have gone to bed as the fire was dying out and the crowd of guests had all but cleared, saved some guards and Josephine pacing the floor. He just couldn’t bring himself to giving them to Leliana to be sent out. There was a reality in bearer of bad news that made it too real. Like if he left the letters where they were or even used them to invigorate the fire before him, Hawke would still be alive. He’d go to bed and wake up to find her sitting at the edge of his bed. Ready to get into trouble at the Inquisition’s expense. Probably eating an apple or a tart that would leave crumbs all over the place. And probably she swiped from the kitchen without anyone noticing.

_“Varric, I know you’re a dwarf and all so you aren’t use to sunlight but the day is wasting away.” She’d chided once. Tossing a pair of trousers since they already knew enough about each other that some things were best left a mystery._

_“What could you possibly be trying to get into here in Skyhold? There isn’t a damn thing to do. ” He’d put his pants on under the blanket before emerging, stretching and scratching his chest hair groggily._

_“Did you know there’s an old library under the castle?” She asked with a song in her voice. A “I know something you don’t know” tone._

_“Bull shit! How come I’ve never seen it?” He found a tunic he’d thrown over a chair. He shook out the dust and tossed it on._

_“Probably because you are too busy sleeping or because the Inquisitor drags you off on every mission.” Hawke teased. “You think she likes you? She’s really funny and has the prettiest makeup.  Just your type.”_

_“Andrastes’ tits, no. She’s got eyes for uh, what’s his name, Blackwall.” He corrected, shaking his head at the idea of the Inquisitor and himself. There were papers on his desk that needed his attention but Hawke stole all of that. She always did._

_“The big one?” She extended her arm toward the ceiling. A long and muscular brown arm as high as she could stretch above her short black hair, similar to Krem’s but combed in a different direction. They got a laugh out of that similarity and a few others they shared in private. But he knew, she told him everything._

_“That’s Iron Bull.” He laughed to himself at the height difference between that pairing. “Think shorter, and hairier.”_

_“Oh, the Warden. Right, oh yea, I see that.” She smiled bright. “He’s about as Dwarf as you can get without actually being a dwarf.” She poked at Varric’s always exposed chest hair and laughed._

_“Just tell me where you found this damn Library.” He changed the subject playfully and she winked with the same energy. Bright golden eyes. Like a real hawk he’d always remember._

“Varric.” Someone called his name and he turned a little too quickly to find the source. A part of him hoping it was her. But when he turned it was just Blackwall, his brows pressed together in confusion. “What are you doing down here?” Blackwall was probably trying to sneak in to see the Inquisitor and hadn’t expected an audience. Especially a known gossip.

“Just-“ He stared at the now cooling embers before him. “Warming up.” He lied, scratching his neck.

“Ah, well.” Blackwall attempted to work around that lie. “When you finish that, get some rest alright. You don’t look so good.” He, awkwardly, made his exist and slipped in through the doors to her quarters with the grace of a blind folded horse. Warriors, he shook his head.

Varric ran his hand across his face, knowing Blackwall was right and just damn tired of staring at nothing. It wouldn’t change anything.

He took the letters and placed them gently under his arm. He knew Leliana wasn’t asleep. He was fairly sure she never slept at all. But he didn’t bother to make his way up to her loft to find out and send them off. He’d probably rewrite them in the morning with something more positive and more “Varric”. He’d also wanted to send a letter to his publisher. The _Tale of the Champion_ would probably get a second edition, with additional stories he’d kept from the public and changes to existing ones. So that people could know the true Hawke, not his inflated version. In his mind she was larger than life already. He couldn’t imagine now how he thought the real her wasn’t _enough._

For now, tucked them into his desk and climbed into bed. Clothes and all. Sleep wouldn’t come easy, he knew it. He just laid on his back and stared at the wooden ceilings, making a mental note to get someone up there to fix a missing panel before maker knows what crawled it.

“Damn it Hawke,” He cursed to someone who couldn’t hear him. “Had to go and make me write a tragedy.” Soft laugher rose from his chest only to be replaced with rolling silent tears. They glistened his cheeks and rolled into his ears and he made no attempt to clear them when they soaked his hair and neck.

Would it have been too much, he found himself thinking, to have born anything but a dwarf? At least then, he could visited the fade in his dreams. And seen her once again. The idea quickly made his stomach turn because he knew, if he could dream and see her smile again. Hear her laugh. Touch her skin and confess every lie he’d ever told her. Including but not limited to every chance he’d wanted to tell her how he felt about her only to deflect with a joke about the carta or some nonsense, he’d never want to wake up again.

He figured there must have been a method to the Maker’s madness that forced him to accept what he always knew. That one day, Hawke would go somewhere he couldn’t follow. He knew he’d have to come to terms with her death one day but that night he wasn't ready. That night, his broad chest heaved fast and hard. He choked on his on rapid breathing and sobbing before covering his face with a pillow and rolling on his side. Cradling the pillow to his body he rocked side to side, in an attempt to self sooth his tear but to no avail.

Hawke was gone.

Damn it-

His best friend was gone.

Gone.

Gone!

Fucking gone!

Just fucking, god damn it, she was gone!

**Author's Note:**

> Gavri'el Hawke headcanons. She's a trans-woman which if you didn't pick up the Krem similarity thing that's what it meant. She's also the closest version of Jewish allegory since the game contains a heavy handed Christian facsimile. I figured since they don't have a lot of diversity in religion for the humans (which doesn't immediately go into fanatical cult territory) it would be nice. Hence why her name is the modern hebrew version of Gabriel. She's also polyamourous solely because I couldn't pick between Fenris and Isabela and those two do tango at the end so it makes a nice little threesome. 
> 
> Also in the Mark of the Assassin DLC, Hawke can get a nickname but since my Hawke is a humorous Hawke she'd be sharing the "Chuckles" nickname with Solas so I figured I'd pull a Hamilton and write meaning into the absence of a nickname. Comment and tell me how you felt about it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


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